“Shit, baby, I haven’t even started,” Pete exclaimed, his tone rife with wounded male pride.

“It’s not you. The window.” I shook my finger at the now empty glass. “There was a face. Right there. Pressed against the glass.” Did I mention we were on the second floor of his house?

“What?” My lover whirled on one heel, but whatever peeked in on us was gone.

I shivered, cold even under the covers. “What was it?”

“I didn’t see it. Can you describe it?”

Did malevolent cover it all? “Reddish, glowing eyes. Fat yet kind of flat nose. Big fucking teeth with dark, pimply skin.”

“Demon.” Grimly spoken and not surprised.

Great. It didn’t take long for the thing to find us. “What’s it want?” Other than the obvious—my plump and juicy human body.

“I don’t know, but whatever it’s doing here can’t be good. I’ll call it in.”

“Won’t the guards outside have seen it?” Wards around the house or not, they’d assigned a pair of guards just in case the demon showed up. I wasn’t reassured by the knowledge they’d obviously not seen or shot at the thing.

“If they’re alive. This creature is wily. Best not leave anything to chance.”

His cell phone was in the bathroom, in the pocket of his pants currently lying on the floor. But I wasn’t staying alone in his bedroom while he went to fetch it. One flimsy pane of glass and a supposed spell weren’t enough of a shield for me.

Yanking off the sheet and wrapping it around me toga style, I followed Pete to the hall and stood there, shaking, as he retrieved his phone.

As soon as he had it in hand, he dialed. Bracing it against his ear with one hand, he drew me in with the other, sharing the warmth of his body as he explained to whoever answered that we’d caught a glimpse of the missing demon.

My fearlessness in court in front of a judge didn’t extend to freaky life-or-death situations. Apparently, I wouldn’t make a good ass-kicking heroine who went out slaying creatures of the night for the good of mankind. Nor did I want my boyfriend doing it either.

Or so he learned a moment later when I screeched at him, “What do you mean you’re going outside to confront it?”

“I can’t let it get away.”

“But you’re alone. With no weapon.”

“I am my own weapon.”

His teeth and claws against the monster I saw? Sorry, but my gut said it wouldn’t be a fair fight.

“Can’t you at least wait for backup?” None of the assigned officers were currently answering their communication devices. No one needed to tell me that didn’t bode well.

“If I wait, we might lose his trail. I’ll be okay, baby.” Famous last words. Right along with, “Hold my beer and watch this.”

Even a torrid kiss couldn’t stop him. Stupid hero complex. It always made men do the most dangerous things.

It also left me alone, in a house I didn’t know, listening to unfamiliar creaks and groans. I hurriedly dressed, determined not to meet my maker in just a sheet. But once that was done, I fidgeted upstairs, standing well clear of windows, of course.

A weapon. I needed something to defend myself with in case the so-called magic around the house failed. What to use, though? I didn’t see a sword or a machine gun anywhere.

Why couldn’t I have chosen an NRA member to date? At least they always slept with a pistol in their nightstand. Or at least the ones I’d dated did, right alongside their box of magnum condoms.

With no firearms handy, it occurred to me to settle for the next best thing. A knife. The bigger, the better. Knees knocking or not, I wouldn’t let anything try to devour me without a fight.

Sweaty palm clutching the stair railing, I inched downstairs, silently blessing Pete who’d turned on all the lights in his path out of the house. A lack of knick-knacks meant no shadows or places for scary monsters to hide. I hit the main floor and headed in the direction of the kitchen, or so I hoped. I’d never finished my house tour.

The hall took me to a big archway, and I entered a country-style kitchen, the single glowing light over the sink illuminating wood cabinets and a green laminate countertop. Catching movement, I recoiled, only to realize I’d been fooled by my reflection in the window above the sink.

Talk about giving a girl a fright. With my wide eyes, tangled hair, and pale complexion, I could have passed for the undead instead of just a frightened lawyer dealing with things best left in the movies. A panel of switches to my right drew my attention, and I flicked them, illuminating the space, probably highlighting my location, but with fear my newest close companion, I preferred the light to the hidden terrors of the dark.

Spotting a wooden block with handles jutting from it, I scurried, yanking forth a wide blade. Ha. I was armed. Whether or not I could actually stab anything remained to be seen, but I liked to think if something started chewing on me that I’d get over my aversion to blood and do what had to be done.

If I ended up traumatized, oh well. That’s what shrinks were for.

A scratching sound had me jumping several inches off the floor. I landed in a semi-crouch, knife pointed, eyes darting anxiously. No slavering monster from the depths of Hell confronted me. But I did hear a chirp.

Somehow, I’d missed noting the rather large gilded cage on the other side of the table. Another tweet and scratch emerged from within the bars, and chiding myself for my overreaction, I sidled over to take a peek at the birds my boyfriend kept. They kind of resembled mini parrots with their hooked beaks and general shape. Green feathers adorned their bottom half then switched to yellow while their heads and faces were almost pink in color. Inquisitive eyes watched me, and one cocked its head as if to ask, “Who are you?”

“So you’re Rocky and Periwinkle.” My reciting aloud their names earned me a squawk. “Shh.” I held my finger up. “No noise, you two. I don’t want to miss the demon if he decides to try and sneak up on me.”

Bobbing their heads, the cuddling duo kept their peeps to themselves.

With silence reigning, I strained to hear something, anything. Pete had exited the house several minutes ago. I didn’t know if the lack of noise was a good thing or not. On the one hand, it could indicate he’d found nothing. Then again, it could also mean he was dead.

Not a possibility I preferred to dwell on.

Assuming the lack of screams meant he still looked, I wandered the main floor, staying far away from windows—because we all knew from horror movies that the boogey man loved it when the idiot heroine stuck her face against one peering out, so he could yank her through. I discovered new things about my boyfriend. Such as his penchant for action movies, evident from the DVD collection housed in the tower beside his man-sized TV. A partial smile curved my lips at the knitted afghan, hung over one of the chairs, done in tones of blue. An obviously well-loved item judging by the pearled fabric that bespoke many washings and the holes where the yarn had stretched.

From the bay window—and a safe distance—I stared out across his front lawn, the streetlight on the sidewalk illuminating his boring attempt at landscaping, if you could call the low-cut grass and ring of rocks around some sad-looking hostas landscaping.

The horticulturist in me longed to pull on some gloves, dig a few holes, and fill them with something bright and bushy. It seemed I was more attracted to the domesticated life than I’d previously assumed, given my condo greenery didn’t extend past what the produce drawer in my fridge could hold.

Nothing moved, and given the expansive, unobstructed view, I moved closer and closer until I stood a bare foot away from the plate glass. Still nothing.

“Where are you, Pete?” I muttered.

A cacophony of shrieks and squawks erupted as Rocky and Periwinkle lost their bird-brained minds in the kitchen, and without thinking, I ran back and skidded to a stop in the doorway, only belatedly realizing that running toward possible danger wasn’t a healthy choice.

Lucky for me, I didn’t slam into any demonic beings. As a matter of fact, the kitchen appeared free of anything except the caterwauling birdies who flew around their cage in a frenzy, smacking into the bars.

“Calm down,” I ordered.

Didn’t work.

“Stupid noisy creatures.”

Knife still in hand, I stalked over to them, snagging a tea towel on my way because I vaguely recalled reading somewhere that covering a bird’s cage made them think it was night and put them to sleep.

If that failed, I could always burn some toast. It’s how my great aunt Meredith silenced hers when they got on her nerves. Thankfully, the home that mother put her in didn’t allow her to keep pets.

About to fling my small towel over their cage, I noted a green glint in the window. I jumped back and adopted my best Buffy pose. Of course, hers probably appeared a lot sexier, given my heart raced, my skin grew clammy, and I crouched as if about to pee in the woods.

A chuckle escaped me as I caught sight of the reason for the bird’s agitation. In the window sat a big black cat. Its glowing green orbs fixated on the freaking love birds.

“I see animal control forgot to come pick you up.” It surprised me to note I felt sorry for it.

Poor thing. It was probably so confused. With its owner dead, the cat didn’t have anywhere else to go. No one to feed it. Or protect it from roaming demons.

Unless I came to its rescue. While a little voice in my head screamed, “Bad idea,” another voice chanted, “Save the kitty, save the world.” Okay, so I had more of a hero complex than I expected.

I glanced outside the patio door, the flagstone lit up by a porch light. Nothing moved in the yard. I could do this. I could rescue the cat.

Sliding open the door, but staying within the confines of the house, I crooned to it. “Here kitty-kitty. Come on over here. I won’t hurt you.”

It didn’t budge from its spot in the window. And the birds continued to freak.

I didn’t know how Pete stood the noise. Forget peeing on his neighbor’s flowers. He should have invited the cat in and let it take care of the noisy buggers. Wasn’t that the Darwin method?

Another quick glance to reassure myself the yard remained empty and I stuck my head out the door. “Come on, you stupid cat. Get your furry ass in here before the demon—” or my boyfriend “—turns you into dinner.”

The head of the feline rotated. And rotated some more. Um, somehow, I didn’t think it was normal cat behavior for it to be able to stare at me exorcist-style.

“Uh-oh.” I slammed the door shut. But the damage was done.